The Mystery of Croaker's Island

by Linda DeMeulemeester

  “Jump on the back of my chair and hang on tight,” said Blake. “And give us a hard push.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do it. We’ve got to hurry.” Blake leaned forward in his chair and gripped the arms. Sam took a deep breath, gave the chair a push, and then jumped on the back. The wheelchair flew down the hill as scrub and brambles and dust flew past them.

  “Lean left!” shouted Blake.

  Sam shifted his weight and the chair nudged far enough left to miss a rock. They raced to the bottom of the hill, and Sam leaned his weight far right, bringing the chair up on one wheel as they tore around the corner and into the yacht club beside the wharf gate.

  Blake laughed wildly. “Sam, we’ve got to sign up for bobsledding this winter. That was one awesome ride.”

  Sam grinned until he remembered that staying in Croaker’s Cove depended on a lot of things: right at the top of the list was saving this town from a giant SUO.

  Owen burst around the corner and ran toward them. “Something’s seriously wrong with . . . ” Owen bent over gasping for air. He pulled out his inhaler and took a deep breath. “. . . Khallie.”

  Sam and Blake raced toward the parking lot.

  × 27 ×

  I’M NO PRINCESS

  KHALLIE SAT IN the shotgun seat of the Fiat Spider. Her arms and legs were flailing. Dory was sitting on top of her. “She went berserk,” Dory told Sam while she struggled with Khallie. “I had to cram her in the car, but . . . Ow! Khallie, don’t kick! What’s wrong with you?”

  “It’s the nanochip in her neck,” Sam said. “It’s been activated.”

  “We just spotted Angel, Dane, and Nancy doing a weird zombie walk toward the water,” explained Blake.

  “What are we going to do?” Sam despaired.

  “Something soon, I hope. Ow,” complained Dory.

  Owen huddled over his backpack, fidgeting with wires. Then he raced toward the car. “Quick, move the hair off Khallie’s neck.”

  “Why?” Sam narrowed his eyes, spread himself in front of the car door, and didn’t let Owen get any closer. Khallie had been clear she didn’t want Owen digging out the chip with his Scout knife or melting it down with matches.

  “Professor Marigold said an electromagnet might deactivate the chip,” Owen said with a slight wheeze. “So, I brought one. Ah, it should be painless.”

  “Let the brainiac get to work,” grouched Dory. “My legs are going purple with bruises.”

  Sam climbed into the back seat, grabbed Khallie’s shoulders, and held on tight. Owen gingerly untangled her hair and pushed her head forward. She snapped it back.

  “For crying out loud, she’s not made of glass,” said Dory. She twisted around and, using both her hands, held Khallie’s head still.

  Owen held the electromagnet against Khallie’s neck with one hand, then connected its wire to the battery he held with his other hand. There was a small spark, a snap, and a whiff of sulphur.

  Khallie stopped struggling. A few moments passed, then Khallie said tersely, “Get off me.”

  “My pleasure,” said Dory. Sam released Khallie’s shoulders.

  “What happened?” Khallie shot out of the car and smoothed her hoodie. She looked at their uncomfortable expressions.

  “You were sleepwalking, that’s all,” said Sam. “But Owen deactivated the nanobot in your neck.”

  “You drooled a little,” Dory added unhelpfully.

  “And . . . ” began Owen.

  “Never mind! I get it.” She hesitated, and then said, “Wait. This is a good thing. This is how we can get on the island and not be detected if there are spy cameras. I can cross the bridge and get into the house with the others and set up the receiver. I’m supposed to be with them.”

  “No way,” said Sam. “I can’t put you in danger. I’m supposed to rescue us.”

  Khallie shook her head and looked at Sam meaningfully. “You know I’m no princess, so I don’t need rescuing. I can take care of myself.”

  “The girl’s got that right,” said Dory, rubbing her bruised arm.

  “We can take the boat around the island to the other side and wait for you there,” offered Blake. “It’s closer to Sinistrus Mansion, so you can make a quick getaway.”

  Owen dug in his pack and pulled out the radio equipment. “The receiver’s set up. . . mostly. You need to wind the red wire around one of the metal poles in that weird basement and then attach the black wire to this tiny receiver. Switch the toggle to ‘on.’ The red light should flash. I’ll be able to tell when the receiver’s activated and send the message the professor gave me. When it’s sent, the light should flash green.”

  “How is this message thing supposed to work again?” asked Blake.

  “If the professor’s right,” Owen blinked his owlish eyes, “the aliens will think they’re under attack. Then we clear out, and I mean really fast. Once those aliens think someone bigger and badder is after them, I’ve got a feeling we don’t want to be anywhere near the underwater caves.”

  “Ooo-kaaay. Got it,” said Khallie.

  “Don’t these messages have to travel, like, millions of years?” asked Blake.

  “Uh-huh,” Owen said matter-of-factly. “This transmission is meant to make the aliens only think they’re getting a final warning from an advanced civilization of space cops.”

  There was something about the plan Sam didn’t like. Well, there were lots of things he didn’t like, but one worry niggled at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on exactly which one.

  Instead, he said, “Those metal stones are slippery, Khallie. What if you fall off into the sea?” Don’t do this, he wanted to say but didn’t.

  “I won’t slip.” Khallie placed the receiver in her messenger bag and set out. “I’ve got to hurry and join the others.” Before Sam could protest further she shot away, and in the next moment she’d joined Timothy Wheeler, who was down the road doing his step-stomp zombie stagger.

  Blake took out his key and unlocked the gate to the yacht club wharf. The door swung open and he began wheeling toward a sailboat with the name Peaceful Dream painted on its hull. Owen and Dory followed him.

  “We need to get to the island fast,” Sam said through his teeth. “And I’m not waiting in the boat. I’m going to meet up with Khallie at the mansion.”

  Sam didn’t like this plan. He didn’t like it at all.

  × 28 ×

  SOMEBODY SCREAMED

  “IT WAS BETTER when we thought the echoes were giant sea monsters lurking below us,” Blake said.

  Sam couldn’t argue with that. Blake steered the sailboat around to the other side of the island. Beyond the shore was open sea, and the horizon opened its inky darkness above, darkening the water below. A seal barked apprehensively somewhere in the restless waves.

  Sam eased back the throttle on the gas. “Whoa! We’ve already emptied most of the tank.”

  “We’re going too fast then,” said Blake, who was at the steering wheel. “Take it down to one knot.”

  “No way. We’ve got to get to Khallie,” insisted Sam.

  “I can actually sail if we have to,” said Owen. “I’ve got my sailing badge.”

  Dory gazed at the merit badges completely covering Owen’s Scout uniform. “Of course you do.” She put her head down on her knees. “Is anyone else getting seasick?” she muttered.

  “There.” Sam pointed to the old boat dock. “That’s where we can tie up.”

  “That wharf’s a piece of junk,” said Blake, looking at the missing planks and the tilting pylons.

  “It’ll be fine,” said Sam.

  Blake steered Peaceful Dream as Owen and Sam threw out the buoys, buffering the sailboat’s hull against the dock. Sam jumped onto the wobbly wharf and tied the rope to a teetering post. The dock groaned menacingly. It shook and groaned even more as Dory leaped onto the wharf.

  “What are you doing?” asked Sam.

  “Coming with you,” said Dory. “Remember, I’m th
e alien expert.” The wharf lurched and she clutched her stomach.

  His sister looked green enough to be an alien.

  “Owen, hand me your bag of tricks,” said Sam.

  “What are you looking for?” Owen looked reluctant to part with his pack.

  “In case we need another wire or something,” said Sam.

  Owen sighed and passed it over. “Careful. There’s valuable stuff inside.”

  Sam shouldered the pack. Then he and Dory headed toward Sinistrus Mansion.

  “Don’t get close enough to set off any alarms!” shouted Blake. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth, probably realizing shouting was not a good idea when they were trying to sneak around.

  Sam and Dory scrambled up the scrub-shot bluff, past raw and wounded-looking arbutus trees, and out to where the island levelled off. Along the trail, dry needles crunched under their feet and gave off a sharp pine scent. Sam broke through the last scattering of trees and then halted.

  “Hmmph.” Dory bumped into him from behind.

  Sam pointed at four of the zombie troop stumbling down the stairs and moving with surprising speed back to the bridge. They were the younger kids, not the high schoolers.

  “What’s up with them?” said Dory.

  Nothing good, Sam figured. They hid behind a gnarled and twisted arbutus tree beside Sinistrus Mansion as the other kids passed by.

  “This place seriously creeps me out,” said Dory.

  Sam realized they were underneath the branches where he’d seen the ghostly owls.

  “Eew, eew, get it off, get it off!” Dory cried out. She tore at thick cobwebs hanging off the tree branches.

  When Sam reached for her, he got tangled in the webs and began yanking a few sticky strands from his own skin, but the cobweb only stretched. Tacky white threads clung to his face. More piles of webbing slipped off the branches, falling onto Dory.

  “I can’t get it off!” Dory strangled back a scream. “Angel hair, angel hair,” she gasped. “Get it off me.”

  Sam figured out the way to get it off was to pinch webbing between his fingers and peel it strand by strand. “Pinch and pull,” he told her. “When I pull it off, it turns into jelly and then disappears.”

  Dory looked like an insect trapped by a spider and wrapped in its webbing. Sam reached into Owen’s pack, found his Scout knife, and began cutting Dory out of the mess. Once he’d cut the sticky strands, they turned into goo and disintegrated.

  “What did you call this gunk?”

  “Angel hair. It’s what’s left behind right after an alien visitation.” Dory brushed away the last strand of webbing, watching in disgust as it dissolved. She wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “Visitation? As in, they’ve been here in person?”

  Dory snapped, “That’s what I just said.”

  Sam ignored Dory’s crankiness. His heart thudded. That’s what was wrong with the plan!

  “What if the professor was incorrect about these visitors being a Class One alien encounter?” Sam sounded dead worried. “What if the aliens are at the next stage, Class Two or whatever? What if they’re here, up close and personal?”

  “Of course they are. I just said angel hair is from. . . ” Dory’s head jerked. “Oh.”

  One more thing, Sam thought suddenly. “If aliens can do all that, they’re smart. Who cares if the professor thinks they’re not much more advanced than knuckle-dragging cavemen.”

  “And your point?” Dory said in a worried voice.

  “My point is, wouldn’t they also be smart enough to know if one of their nanochips has been deactivated?”

  Somebody screamed inside Sinistrus Mansion.

  Khallie!

  × 29 ×

  THIS CAN’T BE GOOD

  SAM AND DORY ran toward Sinistrus Mansion. Green mist clung to the gate’s iron railings. Broken shutters banged against the shingled walls. Black windows stared at them like the eyes of a deranged witch.

  The menacing, hulking shadow waited.

  Sam and Dory trampled seagrass and circled the house before their steps faltered at the broken window. That odd sour smell burned the back of Sam’s throat, and his heart pounded. Get out, get out, get out, his brain was shouting.

  All he could think about was when he was five and being convinced a monster was hiding under his bed. He’d been terrified.

  “Why do I keep thinking of that morning I woke up and saw a pimple on the end of my nose?” said Dory. She let out a small groan. “What a horrific moment that was.”

  “It’s the gas. It’s as if this is a special fright gas the aliens use to keep people away.”

  “It’s working.” Dory began backing away from the house.

  Sam pinched his nostrils shut. “Ploog yer nowse.” His heart rate began slowing.

  “You sound like an idiot.” But Dory did the same.

  Sam peered inside the window. Inky blackness stared out.

  “Hwm I sppos’ed to keep ma noose plooged and climb inside?” said Dory.

  Sam opened Owen’s pack, hoping to find a scarf to cover his face. Instead, stuffed neatly in a side pocket were painter masks. He pulled out two, slipped the elastic of one over his head, and breathed into the mask’s gauzy shell. “Try this.” He handed the other one to Dory.

  Also in the pack, Owen had a tiny steel hammer, the kind people used in emergencies to punch out car windshields. Sam quickly tapped the jagged glass around the window so it was easier for him and Dory to crawl through.

  Another shrill scream pierced the air.

  Sam and Dory ran for the cellar stairs. Past the rickety steps leading under the foundation, they climbed down the precision-cut stone stairs. Sam hesitated on the threshold of the eerie, old-fashioned laboratory.

  Dory slammed him from behind. “Could you signal when you stop?” she vented. “Yikes. That’s not good.”

  Now it was like three hearts hammered in Sam’s chest, throbbing in his throat and ears. Staring into the musty darkness past the metallic lab tables and cabinets, he saw Khallie backing up against the far wall. With one hand she held up Owen’s transmitter. With her other hand, she was waving what looked like a metal table leg as she fended off four of the high schoolers in the zombie troop. An army of cats was hissing as they approached her.

  What Khallie didn’t see was a thin crack along the wall behind her, and from that crack bled a phosphorescent green light. Sam and Owen had missed the door earlier because it blended in with the stone. Only now it was beginning to open!

  For once Sam didn’t hesitate. He shot across the lab, his sneakers kicking up clouds of dust that would have sent Owen to the hospital with his asthma. He skidded through the zombie troop, colliding with Dane Parsons and sending him into a face plant.

  “Sorry,” said Sam. As a girl’s fingers grazed his shoulder, the lights blinked out, plunging them all into darkness—except for the witch light and the tiny red light pulsating on Owen’s transmitter.

  “I cut the lights. That should slow the zombie kids,” shouted Dory. “They still have to see, right?”

  Something banged up against the other side of the door. The reverberations made Sam’s teeth grind together.

  “Khallie, shove that metal table over here!” he shouted. He could barely make out her shape in the eerie green murk. “Help me barricade the door.”

  “Why?” Khallie asked. “Shouldn’t we wire up the receiver?”

  Another crash against the door almost sent Sam spinning.

  “What . . . was . . . that?” Khallie gulped.

  “Let’s just say the professor should have classified these aliens as a Class One and a Half Civilization.”

  The door shook with the next crash and a bigger crack of green light outlined the door. A cat bumped into Sam and scratched his ankle, causing him to let out a small yelp. Then he saw a tiny beam of light from Dory’s key chain.

  “Stay still, will you?” Dory told Angel Chan. She’d pulled out Owen’s electromagnet from his pack
and was trying to deactivate Angel’s chip. But Angel wouldn’t stand still, so Dory spun her around and sent her shuffling into another direction. Then she moved toward Dane Parsons.

  In the murky greenlight, it looked like Dory was in a video game because of the way she kept shoving the zombie troop and wayward cats into each other and sending them in other directions.

  Khallie dragged the metal table to the door and turned it on its side. Sam helped her slide it against the door. Then they shoved a metal filing cabinet against it, and added a few cat cages for extra measure. Sam pushed his shoulder against the barricade.

  “Set up the receiver, Khallie.”

  Suddenly it was quiet behind the door. Then the lights in the lab snapped back on. Sam, Dory, and Khallie stared in amazement as the four teens lined up quickly in formation and began shuffling out of the lab and up the stairs. The cats circled once, then hunkered down and fell asleep.

  “This can’t be good,” gulped Sam.

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” said Dory. “Even my friend Angel’s a pain with that stupid zombie chip.”

  Sam didn’t say that the Trojans would have been better off had they looked inside their gift horse’s mouth.

  The green light behind the door grew brighter. Screeching echoed through the laboratory.

  “We’d better hurry!” shouted Sam.

  × 30 ×

  TOO TERRIFIED TO SCREAM

  DORY HUSTLED the sleeping cats into their cages and began hauling them out of the basement. “I’m getting them out of here,” she called down to Sam. “Owen said when the message gets transmitted, no one should be in the basement. I assume that also means the cats.”

  “Good idea,” grunted Sam as he shoved himself harder against the barricade.

  Khallie began unravelling wires and looking for a place to hook up the receiver. “Owen said we need a metal pole.”

  “What about the pendant lamps?” said Sam. He pointed to the old-fashioned metallic lights dangling from the ceiling.

  “Perfect.” Khallie grabbed a chair and placed it on top of a long, narrow table. She climbed on top of the chair.

  The door behind Sam shuddered. He pressed his back against the vibrations and held his breath, watching Khallie set up the receiver. The floor shook beneath him.